You Only Live Once
by polomare
Summary: An absolutely crucial moment from Season 2 that The Powers That Be did not see fit to show us.


**You Only Live Once**

A _Scarecrow and Mrs. King _fan fiction by Polomare. January 2012.

_An absolutely crucial moment from Season 2 that The Powers That Be did not see fit to show us. PG. Standard Disclaimers Apply._

* * *

><p>Agency Section Chief Billy Melrose didn't know how long he had been staring, unfocused, at the papers on his desk when it suddenly registered that his coffee cup felt cold in his hand. <em>Hadn't he just poured it?<em> Angry with himself, he deposited the cup with an unceremonious thunk on his desk and an accompanying grunt. He shook a cramp out of his hand.

Billy regarded the cold coffee with disbelief. Everything was normal when he had poured that cup. Everything pre-coffee was ok, status quo, business as usual. Everything post-coffee was anything but. The section chief grimly wondered how many days, weeks or months would have to pass before he could indulge in such an innocent morning ritual again, without being reminded of the horrible news that immediately followed.

It had come across this morning's wire. He had snitched the local law enforcement bulletin off the fax on the way back to his office from the coffee machine. He never got to take a single sip from the cup. In seven years as section chief, this may just turn out to be his worst morning ever. Initial shock gave way to a blanket of glum melancholy that wrapped around his heart when he realized it had just become his job to destroy someone else's morning as well.

Without moving a muscle, Billy's eyes flicked toward the bullpen. Stetson had just arrived. Even through the horizontal filter of the blinds on his office window, his top agent's distinctive lanky figure was unmistakably recognizable amongst the flurry of other agents. Delay wouldn't do. Stetson had a right to know. He had a right to know right now.

Billy got up from his chair, threw open his office door and targeted Stetson's desk. Desperate not to attract attention to himself, Melrose glided through the noisy bullpen with a graceful, ghostlike silence that seemed at odds with his stout bulk. It worked. Even Lee didn't hear his approach. Good, he wouldn't have to fend off any pleasantries. Billy leaned over Lee's left shoulder, resting his weight on folded knuckles placed on the agent's desk blotter. Scarecrow's head snapped to him. A startled half-moment immediately morphed into warm acknowledgement when he recognized his boss and friend. Billy didn't return the look. The section chief looked down at the floor and then up at the ceiling, then back to the desk. "Hey, Bi-"

Melrose stopped Stetson's greeting cold. "I need to talk to you in my office immediately."

Without eye contact, and without saying another word, Billy peeled his knuckles off Stetson's desk and walked away. Lee was stunned. His smile, warm only a moment ago, froze with fear and confusion as he watched his boss navigate a path of least resistance back to his office. Melrose's entire demeanor and grave tone of voice told Lee that something was very, very wrong.

Lee swallowed perceptibly and then stood up. He buttoned his suit jacket, steeling himself for whatever waited for him on the other side of Billy's door. He strode determinedly in that direction. He made a conscious effort to broadcast an air of casual confidence, his only reassurance that at least his fellow agents couldn't tell anything was wrong by looking at him.

He entered Billy's office wordlessly. Billy was equally mute as he twisted the plastic dowel that would close the horizontal blinds, creating total privacy. Lee noted with apprehension that in all the years he had worked for Billy Melrose, he had never seen him feel the need to do that before. Lee struck a military pose of attention in front of Billy's desk, arms folded behind his back, just as his uncle had taught him to do when being addressed by a superior in a serious situation.

Billy moved behind his desk to face him squarely. "Sit down, Lee." he implored quietly.

In a moment of disobedience, Lee set his jaw and shook his head in a refusal. "Billy, whatever it is, I can take it. Just let me have it."

Billy just stared at him. He looked too tired to argue. Lee wondered if it was possible for the man to have aged twenty years in a day. It certainly looked that way. Melrose picked up a paper on his desk that Lee knew held important news, but he could tell the section chief was oh so reluctant to hand it over. Billy opened his mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut again. He seemed to be looking for an adequate introduction for the information the paper contained, but must have ultimately decided that there is simply no such introduction.

He held the paper out to Lee across his desk. Lee unclamped his hands from behind his back and took it. A nearly full page of single-spaced typewriting confronted Lee. It was a typical police blotter from the 27th precinct reporting on last night's criminal activities in their jurisdiction. In the sea of several hundred words, his trained agent's eyes somehow immediately leapt to a single, jarring block of text.

_FEMALE. CAUCASIAN. BROWN HAIR BROWN EYES, EST. HEIGHT/WEIGHT 5'8" 120LBS_  
><em>DOA APPARENT SUICIDE, 1200 BLOCK OF HALL AVENUE, POSS SUSPICIOUS CIRCS<em>  
><em>VICTIM WALLET ID AMANDA W. KING 4247 MAPLEWOOD DRIVE ARLINGTON, VA<em>

_Amanda_. At first, Lee's eyes widened slightly but then his face crushed into a hard rock of disbelief. His head began to swim and his posture wavered slightly. _DOA? _He read it again. _Suicide? _And again. _Possible suspicious circumstances? _The special kind of strength that only comes with anger began to replace the weakness of initial shock and grief. _She was killed_! Amanda was murdered of that he was certain. For the first time in many minutes his head snapped up to meet Billy's pitying gaze.

"Bil-" A frog caught his voice. He cleared it and began again. "Billy, you know this isn't right. Amanda King did not commit suicide. She has two small boys whom she loves _very_ much. A mother, a house, a station wagon, a mortgage . . ." Lee's breathless voice trailed off when he realized his argument was becoming illogical.

Melrose could sense the building storm and knew he would now have to be the voice of reason in the room. He carefully metered his tone to an appropriate level of calm determination. "I know Lee. It doesn't track. I promise you we'll get to the bottom of this. Her affiliation with the Agency automatically makes the investigation our jurisdiction, regardless of the circumstances of her death."

"Ah, c'mon Billy!" Lee forcefully threw the evil paper on Billy's desk in anger. "It's her affiliation with the Agency that got her killed!" Lee stabbed the air with his left hand menacingly. He spun around in frustration and stalked the room.

Billy gave him his breathing space. He decided to sit down, hoping it would influence Lee to do the same. Lee returned to stand behind the guest chair in front of his desk. Billy watched as the grieving agent traced his fingers lightly across the top of the chair with an absent mind. If Billy had blinked, he would have missed Lee's change in countenance. In a mere instant, every ounce of anger appeared to drain from the agent's face. He looked suddenly defeated. Stetson spoke as if he were reading his own death sentence. "It was her affiliation with _me_."

"Now, Lee." Billy rushed to halt the downward spiral into guilt and blame that he unfortunately recognized all too well. There was no time for that now. The first 48 hours after the commission of a crime are the most crucial to any investigation. He needed clear heads, not guilty consciences. "We have only the sketchiest of details at this point, we don't know what happened yet." Billy tried to catch Lee's distant gaze. He didn't look like he was listening. Billy continued anyway. "First things first. I'll call the coroner and arrange to have us make a positive ID on the body. Once that's out of the way, the Agency can announce its intent to take over the investigation. I'll send Hobson and Marley down to the 27th to collect everything they have. Then we can move her to our forensic lab, we have the best equipment available. You know if there is anything to be found, we'll find it." Billy picked up the phone receiver and held it in mid air, but he didn't dial. The gesture looked like he was waiting for Lee's permission to proceed.

Lee nodded vacantly. Then he sat down.

_~o~_

For the life of him, Lee couldn't remember a single moment of the drive to the coroner's building. All he knew is that Billy rode in the passenger seat. And now here they were. Instructed to wait in a long hallway while an orderly retrieved the gurney from cold storage, Billy Melrose and Lee Stetson stood side by side in a tunnel of tile. An offensive landscape of turquoise and sea-foam green checkerboard patterns infected every inch of floor and wall that didn't have a door. Made all the more garish by the unnatural light spectrum cast by the omnipresent fluorescent tubing, the whole expanse of the morgue's many exam rooms and connecting halls presented a kind of unbelievable hyper-reality. Edges were so sharp, surfaces so shiny, _the silence so loud, _Lee wondered how the people who worked here didn't crack up.

Lee felt there were a thousand fire ants in his brain. The urge to pace, or punch a hole in a wall, was becoming overwhelming. But out of respect, and maybe a little envy, for his boss's studied calm and control, Lee tamped down the desire to do physical damage to the nearest inanimate object. He rubbed his fingertips nervously back and forth across his hairline, but stood his ground shoulder to shoulder with Billy. He let his eyelids drift shut and he tried to take deep, calming breaths. It was just then that the gnawing silence was penetrated by a very distant squeak of a gurney wheel. It grew steadily closer and louder with grim undeniable purpose. And it was then that Lee knew. This was the gurney that held Amanda.

He slowly opened his eyes just as Billy took a careful step around him to face the oncoming morbid task. Lee's eyes followed Billy's gaze to the body on the gurney as the orderly rolled it slowly closer. The small frame of a woman's body was covered with a white sheet. A crown of tousled brunette hair peeked beneath the shroud, dancing slightly in a cruel suggestion of life in response to the vibration of the stainless steel cart as it traveled its path.

The gruesome observation snapped Lee's last nerve. "Oh, God, Billy." he whispered fiercely. Groping blindly, he thrust out his hand and grabbed Billy by the shoulder as if to hold him back. "It's her. It's Amanda, I recognize her hair. It's true, she's really dead."

Billy put a sympathetic hand on Lee's and held the other out to the orderly, motioning for him to stop. "That's far enough." He spoke in an even tone. "I can view her there." Billy pulled Lee's hand off his shoulder, squeezing it slightly, communicating to him that it was ok for Lee to keep his distance. Billy squirmed in his suit jacket but didn't falter in his approach to the gurney. He stopped at her right side and looked down in the direction of where he knew her face would be. He flicked an eye of acknowledgement at the morgue attendant, signaling he should pull down the sheet from her face.

Lee stared at Billy. Billy stared at the body. A second passed. Another. Then five more. Lee couldn't read Billy's perplexing expression. Against every desire in his gut, Lee forced himself to glance at the oblique view he had of the woman's face from fifteen feet away. Something didn't look right.

"Sylvia." Billy spoke on the exhale. "I don't believe it . . . how . . ." Billy tried to shake his head no, but only made half the effort. Lee sprang to his side, his eyes greedily drinking in every distinguishing feature of the woman's face. _Not Amanda_. Similar. Eerily so, actually, but definitely not his Amanda.

Lee quickly wiped his hand upwards across his forehead, a gesture of inestimable relief accompanied by a long, controlled deflation of his entire being. He cantilevered forward at the waist, but then drew upon every last ounce of strength in his body to make himself stand upright. It certainly wouldn't do to pass out now. Not after he just found out Amanda was alive and most likely very well. He looked to his boss for answers, and it dawned on him with sudden clarity that their roles had just reversed. Billy clearly knew this woman. "Billy," still speaking in a hushed tone. "Who is this woman? _And what is she doing with Amanda's ID_?"

_~o~_

He wasn't even going to pretend to himself that ending up in front of Amanda's house was coincidental. Oh no, not this time. Today's scare was simply too big. He owed her that much. He owed her the truth of how devastated he felt when he thought she was dead. How it tore him up inside to think that he had failed to be there when she needed him to protect her. That he had lost her. Forever. That his single act of random desperation in a train station a seeming lifetime ago could have ultimately rendered Dotty West daughterless and Phillip and Jamie motherless was simply too much to let go without a deeply penitent apology.

Shame she would never hear the words. He couldn't say them out loud of course. It was enough that he admitted it within the confines of his own mind. He was a little shaken by the revelation himself. He was a highly trained government agent. Professional, cool, detached. That's why they paid him the big bucks, right? Just when was it that she had gotten under his skin? He had lost friends, colleagues, co-workers, partners, even lovers. In the line of duty and out. Never before had he been as affected as he was by the alleged death of a certain housewife from Arlington.

The front door of Amanda's house creaked open and Lee instinctively crouched in his driver's seat. His breath hitched. Would it be- _Yes!_ It was Amanda! A broad grin burst on his face and he pounded the steering wheel of his 'vette with the palms of his hands a few good times in triumph. It was silly, he knew, that he had to see her, but it just made him feel so much better. "Amanda King," he clicked his tongue to himself "you have nine lives and you don't even know it. Lucky you." He happily watched her retrieve the morning's newspaper from the front lawn and then slip back inside.

And all was right with the world. At least for today. Lee's smile slowly faded when he thought about the next time her life would be in danger. And there would be a next time, of that he was unfortunately certain. Amanda was a danger magnet. At least as long as she continued to work at the Agency she would be. As long as she continued to work with _him_. He should ask Billy to chain her to a desk. That'll keep her out of trouble. Or not. She always seemed to find a way to worm her way into an investigation and the line of fire_. She shouldn't be working at the Agency at all. _That was his fault and in light of recent events that knowledge weighed very heavily. He had to come up with a plan to keep her safe.

Suddenly conscious of the time, Lee glanced at the dashboard clock. It wouldn't look good if Billy got back to the Agency before he did. Billy had decided to hitch a ride with Hobson and Marley when they had arrived at the morgue to help arrange for collection of the body. There was paperwork to be done and Billy insisted on staying behind to finish it himself out of respect for Sylvia. Lee started the engine and put the Corvette in gear. With his head finally clear of the morning's emotional rollercoaster, he could set his analytical mind to explore the circumstances of the strange case of mistaken identity before him. He gunned the engine as he pulled away from the curb and scarcely a moment later. . . the only remaining evidence of the spy's presence was the few blades of grass left to spin in his wake.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Though I'm a lifelong fan of SMK, I'm brand new to the fan fiction side of it. I'm sure this scene has been done to death :D, but I just couldn't refrain from getting my version down on paper any longer. The incomplete treatment of this scene in canon has made me itch since I was in elementary school. It was time to rectify that. Frank critique is welcome and pm'd links to other authors' versions of this scene are greatly appreciated. :)_


End file.
